


Wake of the Survivor

by MissyXS



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, F/M, Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyXS/pseuds/MissyXS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 3 years after the Sole Survivor left Vault 111. She is well-known throughout the Commonwealth as the General of the Minutemen, rebuilding settlements and helping those in need. She has made it into the Institute and is struggling to maintain her many alliances as she works to better the post-apocalyptic wasteland.</p><p>But there is another vault dweller in the Commonwealth. Erika is young and inexperienced, but when her mentor and close friend is murdered in front of her, she heads to Goodneighbor, hell-bent on revenge.</p><p>This will be a slow burn fanfiction. It contains spoilers and is intended for an audience who has already finished Fallout 4. There will be graphic depictions of violence and explicit sexual content, so read at your own discretion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Erika was violently shaken out of her drug-induced coma. She had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been out, but the haze of the world cleared through the sound of nearby gunfire and she realized it was dark outside. She rose clumsily to her feet and fell against the man who had woken her. She recognized the crescent charm around his neck as she laid into him. It was Daniel.

Her heart leapt at the crack of a bullet.

Raiders.

He was yelling something at her but it was muffled by the ringing in her ears. She blinked, terrified and unable to focus. Not giving her a moment to collect herself, he grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out of the room.

The world swam before her eyes. Gunshots echoed somewhere behind them and she heard shouting as well as some familiar screams. As they stumbled through the backdoor, she tripped. Daniel caught her with strong, desperate arms and pulled her upright.

Not a second later there was a sharp ‘ _Bang!_ ’ and Daniel toppled to the ground, taking her down with him. Erika grunted as she crashed into the dirt.

The world slowed as if she was on jet. The large man towering before them didn’t look like any raider she’d ever seen, aside from his armor. His face was deeply scarred, like a burn victim, eyes cloudy and bloodshot. His blurry figure swaggered into focus and she shuddered against the ground as her eyes caught sight of the assault rifle in his arms.

Daniel let out a strangled groan. Erika looked back at her friend and found him writhing in pain as blood gushed from a hole in his left side.

The scarred man looked down at them. One more pull of the trigger and Daniel went silent.

 _This isn’t happening_. She watched in horror as the blood pooled around her friend’s shaven head. _This is a dream._ Heavy footfalls closed in through the now distant gunfire, and she looked up to find herself staring down the barrel of a smoking gun.

The man pressed it to her forehead, making her neck crane and forcing her to stare into his bloodshot eyes.

Erika’s past came rushing back to her in a blur - the vault, the towns, the people she’d grown to know and love and hate. The memories flashed behind her eyes and she took a deep breath, ready for it all to end.

 

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was midday when the door to Goodneighbor swung open, kicking up a cloud of dust. The town’s entrance was a cobblestone square surrounded by shops and a dozen narrow alleys. It stank of smoke and piss and booze, which wasn’t surprising considering the look of its residents. There were more ghouls than humans, most of which were garbed in ragged clothes or mismatched armor. They leaned against buildings, conversing around cigarettes, and loitered in alleys with beer bottles in hand. One ghoul was passed out in the street, but either no one noticed or they simply didn’t care.

The shaggy blonde strode into town, ignoring the commotion. She tracked muddy boots across the cobblestone and made a beeline for the general store.

The owner, a ghoul woman, was wiping down the front counter with a dirty rag when the newcomer approached. A welcoming smile spread across her ruined face and she tucked the rag away to give the girl her full attention.

“Hello there,” she said kindly. Her black eyes twinkled. “Name’s Daisy. What can I do for you, honey?”

The blonde slung a hefty sack from over her shoulder and banged it down on the counter with excessive force.

“I’m here to trade,” she said shortly.

The ghoul was unfazed.

“Hon, you don’t have to keep that act up around me.” Her low, raspy voice was warm, but the newcomer gave her a wary look before sifting through the contents of her bag. Daisy paused as the girl pulled out a busted clock and some aluminum cans. “So, what’s a pretty young thing like you doing in Goodneighbor?”

“Just passing through,” she shrugged. “Sell some stuff, maybe get a drink and a bed for the night.” She continued to unload junk onto Daisy’s counter.

“Then you’ve come to the right ghoul, sugar.” The shopkeeper said with another smile. “I know Goodneighbor better than anyone here. I can point you to all the right places.” She paused, looking over the growing pile of knickknacks. “Lot of ruffians around, but the mayor keeps them in line for the most part. You should introduce yourself.”

She noticed the girl’s hands were shaking as she continued to rummage through the bag, her amber eyes glued to the task.

“Well at least you aren’t screaming.’” Daisy laughed.

The blonde stopped and looked up at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Honey, I’ve been around a long time. I appreciate you being polite, but I can tell you’ve never seen a ghoul before.”

“Yes I have.” She shot back a little too quickly. The shopkeeper continued to give her that soft, warm smile.

“It’s alright, it doesn’t bother me any. You’re smart to watch yourself out here, but you should try to make friends with the right people too.” The girl’s amber eyes struggled to hold a steady gaze. “What’s your name, hon?”

After a long, leery silence, the newcomer gave in, relaxing her shoulders.

“Erika.”

“Pretty name.” Daisy said kindly. “Well, Erika, welcome to Goodneighbor.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was barely noon and The Third Rail was already bustling with patrons. The noise of clashing mugs and inebriated laugher nearly drowned out the jazz music playing over the radio. The bartender, Whitechapel Charlie, was a brooding Mr. Handy with a unique cockney accent. He hovered behind the counter, scrubbing glasses while arguing with a large, particularly intoxicated man.

Erika took a swig of her lukewarm beer. She was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, hood pulled down to obscure her face. She was used to rowdy bars, but had heard enough disconcerting rumors about Goodneighbor to be cautious. And there were so many ghouls…

The angry man at the bar finally gave up and stumbled away from the counter. Erika watched from under her hood as his eyes scanned the room, probably looking for a free drink. She was suddenly aware of how alone she was and hoped that he wouldn’t notice her in the shadows.

He did.

Their eyes locked for an instant before Erika turned away, and that was enough for the man. She didn’t hear him approach, but moments later she felt a meaty hand on her shoulder. She flinched but kept her head down as he let out a throaty laugh.

“Well hello there, darlin’,” he slurred. “Little young for this place, aren’t ya?”

Erika clenched her teeth as she debated how to handle the situation. She didn’t want to start a fight, but she had a feeling he wasn’t going to leave her alone. She sighed and turned around to face him.

“Can I help you?” There was an edge to her voice, but he ignored it.

“Yeah…” His ugly face twisted as he struggled to form words. “Pretty girl like you’s gotta watch herself. Lot a bastards ‘round here.”

Erika winced at the foul odor emanating from the man, which got markedly worse each time he opened his mouth. She noticed his cracked and stained teeth and wondered how many of them were rotten.

“So…” he continued. “You need a strong man, and I need a drink… Get me another couple rounds and I’ll make sure no one bothers ya, sweetheart.”

Erika pushed his hand off her shoulder and got to her feet, abandoning her drink. The man swayed and stepped back, but his crooked smile said he wasn’t done with her yet.

“Whoa, whoa… I don’t mean no harm. It’s just… Fuckin’ Charlie over there… he won’t serve me no more. But you… you’ll help a brother out, won’t ya sweetheart?”

“I’m _not_ your sweetheart, asshole,” she snapped. “And I’m not buying you shit. I can handle myself just fine.” It took the ugly man a moment, but when he finally registered what she had said, his face contorted in rage.

Just as he opened his rotten mouth to retaliate, the bar erupted into a multitude of shouts and cheers. The drunkard swiveled around to find the source of the commotion. He swore loudly. A man – or _ghoul_ , had entered the bar, dressed from head to toe in colonial regalia. She recognized the outfit immediately from pictures in an old history book. The red velvet frock coat and iconic tricorne hat looked unreal, reminders of a past long forgotten. With one last filthy glance at Erika, the drunkard spat on the floor and wobbled away.

The costumed ghoul smiled as he strode towards the back of the bar with notable swagger, nodding at patrons as he went. The excitement died down as the ghoul settled himself on a stool at the counter and started up a conversation with the bartender. Erika couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she had a resounding gut feeling about the man – he _had_ to be the mayor of Goodneighbor. A wave of dread swept over her as she resumed her seat and took a hard swallow of beer. She had been told that the mayor was a man who inspired fear and commanded respect, but she hadn’t considered him being a ghoul.

She watched warily from her corner as she finished her drink. He was laughing about something as the Mr. Handy poured him a double shot of whiskey. The ghoul raised the glass to Charlie before downing its contents in one swift motion. Erika couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. Physically he was much like other ghouls: charred skin, missing nose, and the majority of his facial features melted away by radiation. She noticed how the fluorescent lights caught the ridges of his cheeks when he smiled and played off his inky black eyes. She noticed the ease with which he moved, the methodical twist of his fingers as he set the emptied glass on the counter. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite grasp. Something more to the man than the brilliant red uniform and his horribly scarred visage. He had an aura about him that she found particularly terrifying… and it fascinated her.

There was no telling how long she’d been staring when the ghoul got up from the bar and looked directly at her. Erika’s heart leapt. There was no avoiding the man now. He grinned, his dark eyes still dancing in the light. He knocked back one final shot of whiskey before giving Charlie a parting nod and heading her way.

“Hey there, sister. I don’t believe we’ve met.” He had a low, rumbling voice and his black eyes were unreadable. “Name’s Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor.”

“Erika,” she squeaked back. Her ‘tough girl’ façade was crumbling around her. _Damn it._

Hancock extended a gnarled hand and she hesitated before taking it in her own. He gave it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet ya, Erika.”

“Likewise,” she said, composing herself. Hancock turned his attention to one of his velvet pockets and pulled out a tin of mentats. He slid one between his drawn lips before offering her the tin, but she shook her head.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, motioning to a nearby chair.

“Go ahead!” She spoke louder than she had meant to. His bottomless eyes were unnerving, and she knew he could tell how uncomfortable she was. He paused for a second, studying her, before assuming the seat at the opposite side of the table.

“How about another drink then?” He gestured to her empty mug, but she turned him down once again.

“I’m good. Was gonna hit the Rexford soon anyway.” She fidgeted in her chair as Hancock eyed her, casually rolling the mentat around in his mouth. Shit, she was being rude. “Uh, I’m actually looking to make some caps, if you have any work.” His withered face broke into a grin.

“Well now that you mention it, we’ve been having a pretty bad radroach problem lately.”

Erika blinked. Was he being serious? “I'd like more of a challenge, actually. I’m pretty good with a rifle and I’m even better up close.”

“You ain’t kidding, sister,” he quipped playfully, swallowing the mentat. He reached back into his coat to withdraw a lighter and pack of cigarettes. After pushing one between his lips he slid out another and handed it to Erika, this time without asking. She took it. Hancock smirked in approval as he flicked on the lighter and leaned over the table, closing the short distance between them as he lit her up. Erika inhaled deeply, her heart pounding at the closeness of his disfigured hands.

He eased back in his chair before lighting his own. “So, what brings you to this little slice of chaos?”

“Just looking to make some caps,” she shrugged.

Hancock exhaled a long stream of smoke through the gaping cavities that were once his nose, black eyes burning into her as he spoke.

“81 right?”

She choked on her cigarette. “Wh-what?!” Her mind was racing, struggling to come up with the next lie.

Hancock chuckled and shot her a wicked grin. “Don’t worry, sister. I won’t say a word.” Erika opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. “But I gotta know, how’s a kid from a vault make it all the way out here on her own, and with nothin' but dirt to show for it?”

That struck a nerve. “I’m _not_ a kid, _”_ she hissed. “I’m 25.”

Hancock coughed and let out a full, hearty laugh. “Kid, you ain’t a day over 20.” She looked at him incredulously.

“ _Really,_ ” she insisted, but it was hopeless.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

Erika sighed. There was no point in lying to a man who could read her like a book. “Anyway, I had a good mentor. He and I did a lot of work around Bunker Hill.”

“Oh yeah?” Hancock raised a hairless brow.

“Yeah, we ran together for several months. He taught me everything I know.” She took a drag of her cigarette.

“So, how long have you been out of the vault?”

“A little over a year. I left with a trade caravan to Bunker Hill and I’ve been living there ever since.” Hancock watched her attentively and there was a moment of silence before she realized he was waiting for her to continue. “So… I spent a lot of time cleaning up scum around there, raiders mostly. I also took out a couple yao guai, lot of bloatflies, bloodbugs, ghouls-“ _Fuck_. She wanted to hit herself for that last one. Hancock ignored the slip-up.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” He exhaled another puff of smoke and she couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her or not. “Tell ya what, Erika. Come by my office tomorrow and I’ll see what I can dig up for ya.” Hancock snuffed out his cigarette and got up from the chair. “Thanks for the company, sister. Hit up Charlie if you change your mind about that drink. It’s on me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t-“

“Yeah, you can,”he said with a finality that made Erika flinch. “It ain’t often a pretty gal like you walks into town. I wanna make a good impression.” He wiggled his brows at her and winked.

“Well, thanks.” She blushed. “It was nice meeting you, Mayor Hancock.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” He gave her a sincere smile. “Listen, if anyone gives you shit around here, the neighborhood watch has your back. And of course, you know where to find me.” He tipped his tricorne at her before turning to leave. Her eyes followed the bright-red coattails as he swept through the bar, stopping a few times to acknowledge patrons with a sturdy handshake or a slap on the back. The town clearly loved their mayor, and she was beginning to see why. He definitely had charisma.

Still, there was something about the man that sent a shiver down her spine and it wasn’t the fact that he was a ghoul. She had a feeling that he was more than what he seemed. There was a hint of danger to his eyes, like a predator waiting to strike.

It was as if a flame went out when Hancock left the Third Rail. That brilliant red outfit had made a shocking contrast to the monotonous browns and greys of the bar. Erika sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating the events that had transpired since her arrival. The kind shopkeeper, the greedy drunkard, the charismatic mayor. Goodneighbor was indeed a ‘slice of chaos,’ a tumultuous melting pot of the lost and unwanted. These interactions had created a tangle of emotions and she couldn’t decide whether she should be excited or terrified to be here.

Erika looked down at her empty mug, overwhelmed by her thoughts. She could really use another beer.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fanfiction and is more of an experiment than anything. I will be covering a lot of heavy subjects and will post trigger warnings on specific chapters, but if you have any doubts, this is not the story for you.
> 
> I am a friendly new writer, and I appreciate any/all feedback. Constructive criticism is also welcome. I will be learning as I go, so bear with me and enjoy the show!
> 
> \- Marissa


End file.
